The Potter's Tale
by belladonnacordial
Summary: Harry's life changes drastically when his village and local priest accuse him of witchcraft! Can anyone save Harry the potter or is he destined to meet the Witchfinder? Magical world, set during the burning years, with favorite characters galore!
1. Prologue

Hello dear readers! This be ye olde tale of Harry the potter. This is AU. It is set in the magical world and quite a long time ago with many of your favorite characters. I do not consider this story slash since there are no sexual relationships. If your are looking for overtones of slash, UST, and Severitus you will find them aplenty. Mainly it is a story about love as well as a tale about good and evil.

This is a work in progress. The basic idea started like a sweet little lump of clay when in a review firewall at AFF reminded me of a Vincent Price film that I saw when a wee impressionable creature. It has since developed into my ode to a knarled urn. firewall I dedicate this urn to you. I am now writing furiously to clear my head of this so that I might be fit to continue working on my other projects. Any help of any sort from anywhere is manna.

The Potter's Tale

Prologue

Harry never knew what happened to his parents. He only knew what his Uncle Vernon had told him. According to his uncle, Harry was left on his step by his parents because they couldn't be bothered to raise him. According to his uncle, Vernon had paid the Widow Figg good money to look after Harry when he was little. Harry doubted any of it was true. His uncle never spent good money on anything for Harry. Harry would not have the clothes on his back if the widow had not given them to him. He could sooner believe the Widow Figg paid Uncle Vernon for the privilege. His earliest memories were of her giving Uncle Vernon bread which she sold and traded in payment for Harry's errands for her. Harry's errands that day had consisted of getting read to for hours. She had fed him peas porridge and bread, too, as much of both as he wanted. Even at that age Harry knew better than to tell his uncle anything other than that he had worked hard all day.

Harry did not know for sure but didn't think that the Widow Figg was a witch, not exactly. He knew she thought that he was a witch though. Harry was certain about that. She first warned Harry about witch-finders long before anyone else in the village ever saw one of those frightening keen eyed men, long before the incident. She was the one who had told him to memorize certain Bible verses. Just in case, she had said. Harry liked to read and liked reading the Bible, though not as much as some of the other books that the Widow Figg owned. Vernon had been angry when he caught Harry with Vernon's Family Bible late one night and had beaten him soundly for it. Harry was more careful after that.

Sadly for Harry, it was not long before he was deemed old enough to be of use in his uncle's trade. The last time he sent Harry to the widow Vernon told him, "You learn to bake that bread she makes while you are there, boy. I'll not feed an ugly, stupid boy who can't earn his keep."

Harry asked the Widow to teach him and learned how to bake the bread, not that Vernon saw fit to feed Harry any of it on most days.

Uncle Vernon was a potter and not a very good one. He was lazy and liked to eat too much and drink mead until he passed out. Harry thought the man was cruel to him because Harry reminded him of what had happened to his wife and their son, who would be about Harry's age had Aunt Petunia and the baby survived child-birth. Because of what had happened, which his uncle talked and cried about sometimes when he was very drunk, Harry found he could not hate his uncle no matter how cruelly he treated Harry.

Harry did not learn most of what he knew from his uncle though that was what the village naturally assumed. What Harry did not learn about the world from the Widow Figg, he learned from the clay. As a result, most of what he knew about being a potter was far beyond Vernon's limited knowledge of the subject. The clay guided and shaped Harry. It called to him from where ever it was in the earth. It modelled him as a craftsman by teaching him how it wanted to be treated. Harry listened and tried his best to give the clay its perfect care. By the time he was eleven, Harry was the most talented potter within many miles. People from other villages travelled days to buy his beautiful, lightweight but sturdy pieces, all signed on the bottom with his uncle's mark.

Even Vernon eventually recognized Harry's work was something extraordinary. Several times a year he loaded up a wagon with Harry's wares and set off for a week or so. Before he left, he always warned Harry not to slack while he was gone. When he came back with an empty wagon, Vernon seemed happier than usual and did not beat him for a while. Harry never asked where Vernon went. Harry didn't care.

Harry caused something of conundrum for Vernon. Harry was the source of his wealth but was also an embarrassment to him personally. The boy walked around covered head to foot in clay all day always mumbling and laughing to himself. He even talked to the bloody clay! Sometimes he laughed like the clay was joking with him.

Vernon hated Harry. Not just because this was the boy who lived while his boy didn't. He hated the very sight of him. He hated him because Harry lived in his own world, happy enough to ignore his uncle. Vernon liked to be important especially in his own house. If he had to beat the boy to get the boy to take notice of him, so be it. Eventually the boy ignored him even when he beat him. The boy was odd, Vernon decided, just like Petunia's sister whom he had heard was odd from Petunia though he had never met the woman. Vernon thought about the problems Harry posed and decided upon a perfect solution. Harry dug clay late at night till early morning when most of the villagers were asleep. During the day, he kept Harry locked up to work. If they never saw him, Vernon reasoned, the villagers would soon forget that the boy existed.

-Thank you for reading! All reviews even flames are welcome! Next up, Vernon's Worst Day


	2. Vernon's Worst Day

Hambares- you are too wonderful. Thank you for the review! I dedicate this chapter to you!

The Potter's Tale

Chapter One

Vernon's Worst Day

-for Hambares

The Widow Figg noticed Harry's disappearance and was the first on Vernon's doorstep enquiring about him. First he told her that Harry was ill. She offered to take care of Harry. Vernon sent her away. She was back the next day with the priest demanding to see Harry.

The priest was tall with white blonde hair and pale gray eyes as intelligent as they were cold. He was very angry with Vernon. At first Harry couldn't figure out why. How could the priest care about him? Harry had never even met the man.

"Why have you not brought this boy to church, Vernon?"

"Well, he's got his work-"

"Sunday is a day of rest. It is the Lord's day. Do not tell me that you have worked this boy on Sundays."

Of course, I work every day, Harry almost said.

"No no, of course not, but he's lazy."

"These things must be expected when you keep a boy away from God."

"Father, I can't get him out of bed on Sundays."

"Harry, you will get out of bed on Sunday and come to church."

"Yes, Father Malfoy, I will. Thank you for inviting me."

"There you see, Vernon? Good boy, Harry."

Harry's life improved considerably after that. Vernon never beat him where marks might show in church. He usually didn't beat him past Wednesday, though Sunday night and Wednesday were often quite bad. Vernon bought Harry a new set of clothes, but he could only wear them to church. Best of all, Harry got to have a proper bath on Saturday night with soap. The first time Harry almost cried. The loss of the clay against his body made him feel raw and lonely. But he soon realized getting clay all over him again on Monday was just like coming home to a friend. After that first time, Harry learned to enjoy the strange new feeling of being clean though it never lasted long.

The widow had figured out Harry's new schedule too and joined him down by the river some mornings before dawn where Harry talked to the clay. Some days he and the widow would talk. Sometimes she would read to him as he worked. Usually she brought him something to eat, bread and a bit of cheese or butter, sometimes a proper bowl of pea soup with bits of carrot and turnip. Harry thinks he well may have died by now if the old woman had not gone so far out of her way all these years to feed him. Sometimes he managed to sneak her gifts in return, silver fish caught with his bare hands. He was good at that, though they were very quick. Taking them home for Vernon to eat would have been a waste. Sometimes he picked edible berries or mushrooms by moonlight saved her half and ate the rest. Often late at night, he'd add bits of fire wood he'd collected to her woodpile. Twice he gave her pieces he made especially for her and managed to hide from his uncle. She never asked him for any of it. Then again, he had never asked her for anything except to teach him how to bake bread.

By the time Harry turned seventeen, Uncle Vernon was a new man. He gave up drinking to extremes, though he still drank occasionally and always ate enough for four. He was well off, envied by his neighbors, and commanded a certain degree of respect not so much as the priest, of course, but more than the blacksmith and most of the other tradesmen.

Vernon did not care for pots, not really. Being a potter was simply the skill his father had taught him, as his father taught him. Pottery was the family business. He never foresaw how profitable the trade could be. If he had he might have taken more of an interest when he was younger. Not that it mattered now. The brat, as much as Vernon hated to admit it even to himself, was a Godsend. Vernon liked the man that Vernon had become. He liked the deference he saw in the eyes of the other villagers. He liked the fact that he sat near the front every Sunday in fine clothes bought with Harry's labors, even though Harry now sat next to him.

The day of the incident was a Sunday, and started just like any other Sunday. Vernon ate a hearty breakfast alone. He decided that Harry looked presentable. Harry sat in the wagon while Vernon drove the horses. It wasn't far to church but why should Vernon walk like the poorest beggar? They sat in their usual pew. Father Malfoy gave his sermon, something about good works. Vernon wasn't really paying attention. He was trying to keep track out of the corners of his eyes, how many admiring looks he got from those important enough to sit as near the front as he sat. Suddenly the stupid, ugly boy beside him leapt up, started babbling madly about drowning and ran from the church.

Vernon had never been so humiliated in his entire life. He could feel eyes on him, all those squinty jealous eyes now so smug and satisfied that he was humiliated! He'd beat the boy dead for this. No, he couldn't do that. Well, he'd beat the boy until the boy wished he were dead. If he thought to use the beating as excuse get out of work, well the boy would have another thing coming!

Unbelievably to Vernon, Father Malfoy stopped midsentence and followed the boy out of the church! When Father Malfoy left, the whole congregation followed! Vernon sat fuming for a few minutes before at last he too left the church. He certainly didn't want to be caught doing something that no one else was doing.

As it turned out, someone had been drowning. A tiny little girl had wandered out of church unnoticed and had fallen into the river. The terrible boy saved her, damn him! Now everyone knew that the stupid, ugly boy, the one Vernon selflessly took in as a baby, sheltered, clothed, fed, taught an honorable trade, and treated as his very own, was a witch which of course would reflect very poorly upon Vernon. Good God! What if they burned Harry at the stake? There would be no more pottery.

This was the worst day of Vernon's life.


	3. Enter the Witchfinder

Hambares! Thanks for sticking with me! What can I say? Organized religion and I have a shady past but nothing like what you read about in the papers. So glad you like it so far!

the-dreamer4 Welcome! Thrilled you like muddy!Harry and the Widow. Thanks!

This chapter is for the both of you ! Hope you enjoy!

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Two

Enter the Witch-finder

The next day, Harry woke in a world of pain on straw-covered stone in a small cell with only bars for a door. First, the father of the child he saved had beaten him. Then Father Malfoy had beaten him somewhat worse, dragged him by the hair into the church down a flight of sharp and pointy stone steps, and tossed him into here. Harry knew why of course. Part of him had known what would happen to him. He could not have done anything else. The clay had called to him, had told him about the little girl. He couldn't just sit there and listen to a sermon letting her die.

Last night Father Malfoy returned. He was angry. At first Harry was certain Father Malfoy was going to beat him again. He did worse than that. He talked to Harry in his softest, coldest voice. He told him the evil Harry committed was reversed. The little girl was given by her father back to the river and back to God. Harry already knew. The clay told him. He just didn't know how or why. Hearing the details from Father Malfoy made everything worse. Father Malfoy said other things that Harry could only half remember. Vernon was now under suspicion. Father Malfoy thanked him for being lazy and not coming to church when he was younger. Then he said something about a witch-finder.

"Not a witch," Harry croaked out.

"How might you possibly know? Such things are for a witch-finder to decide," said Father Malfoy.

Later that night a very clean looking boy about Harry's age with white blonde hair and pale grey eyes brought him a metal cup of water and some stale black bread to dip in it. He stood watching as Harry crawled to it. He watched Harry eat with a sort of amused fascination.

"Thank you." Harry said after he had finished. "I'm Harry. What's your name?"

"Draco," the boy answered after only a few moments of indecision.

Harry tried his best to smile and make pleasant conversation, "Are you Father Malfoy's son?"

The boy made a very unpleasant face and spat on Harry through the bars. Harry never saw him again. A day passed. No one came. Another day passed.

As Harry lay on the straw in the corner of his cell floating in and out of delirium, he listened to the clay. It sang to him. It told him that everything would be all right. There were others, the clay said, others who like Harry could hear the clay. The clay would send help to him. The clay would always take care of Harry as Harry had taken care of the clay.

The next thing Harry knew he could hear other voices. One belonged to Father Malfoy. The other he did not recognize. The voice- he could feel it resonating inside of him. He wondered if it were God. God talked to priests, didn't he? Harry heard the door of the cell swing open.

"Deplorable," said God.

"A witch then?"

"I meant the conditions. How am I supposed to work in this? Has this boy received food and water?"

"Yes of course. Daily. I assigned young Draco to the task."

Harry felt a hand on his forehead. It was long, cool and soft. Then a finger thrust abruptly into his mouth touching his tongue.

"This boy is dry as a bone. You should have a word with your son- Father."

"He is -not- my-"

"Father Malfoy! This boy is your responsibility. I do not like to be saved the trouble of carrying out mine. If this boy dies before I can determine him a witch, I will have to wonder why -you- wished to save a suspected witch from receiving his just punishment. Make no mistake. I -will- find a witch in this village. It makes little difference to me whether I find this boy, or whether I find another, perhaps one hiding even now in this very church. Bring water and broth now!"

"Right away, Witch-finder."

As soon as Father Malfoy left Harry felt cool fingers behind his neck lifting his head carefully. Harry tried to open his eyes. The lids were too heavy. It was like trying to lift two impossibly large slabs of stone out of the way so he could see. Harry didn't have the strength. It didn't matter anyway. The clay was mistaken, for he didn't think it would lie to him. It wouldn't be all right. Help, if help were on the way was already too late.

Harry felt a glass vial pressed to his bottom lip. "Drink," said the witch-finder.

Harry tried. He did. The liquid tasted like poison. Poison was a kindness now, yes. He tried to drink the poison but could not swallow. He choked and dribbled it out again.

"Let us try again," the witch-finder said very softly.

This time Harry managed to swallow a bit. His throat felt raw. Then he could feel the liquid sliding down, hydrating as it went. Harry sipped down the rest of the poison gratefully. It coursed through his body spreading warmth and health and taking pain away.

"Thank you," Harry whisper, managing to open his eyes at last. This man was impressive, frighteningly so. He was very tall and fit. Though he dressed entirely in black like father Malfoy, this man's garb was mostly suede and shiny black leather. The man had long black hair and wore a high black hat. His hands and face looked as though he travelled only at night and never saw the sun. His features put Harry in the mind of some sharp-eyed, sharp-beaked bird of prey, something that swept down from on high to tear a tender life into strips of bloody flesh. Strangely enough, Harry liked the way the man looked.

"One more, then you will play dead while Father Malfoy tries his very best to drag you back to the land of the living."

Harry drank the contents of the next vial. Suddenly he felt very alert but calm. "Who are you?"

"The priest returns. Be clever now."

When Father Malfoy entered with two bowls one of water and one of broth and a spoon, the Witch-finder stood in exactly the same spot looking impatient and more than a little vexed. Father Malfoy did his best to stop his hands from shaking and began nursing Harry back to life.

The witch-finder silently moved closer, making Father Malfoy start when the witch-finder's cape brushed him. When the broth and water had been dutifully spooned into Harry, Father Malfoy turned slowly to look up into the face of the witch-finder. He searched that face for any sign of humanity, any bit of mercy, any trace of God. What he found he would write off as his imagination later. For now, it chilled him to the bone.

The witchfinder simply held his gaze allowing Father Malfoy to contemplate the consequences of failure on his part for just a few moments longer. Then he briskly said, "Well done. I believe this witch will live."

Malfoy who was still kneeling from his task sagged in relief and wiped the sleeve of his cassock over his damp brow. When he stood again he seemed to have collected himself and realized that he was still a priest, "So," he said clapping his hands together, "a witch then."

"Clearly, an ordinary boy would have died by now. I will take him immediately."

"Oh. I had hoped- you see, Witch-finder, this is a small village which could certainly benefit from a spectacle-"

"I do have orders."

"Of course. And who-?"

"Father Malfoy," the witch-finder said as he whirled abruptly as though he had just thought of something. The move made his cloak fan and billow about him almost supernaturally. "Perhaps our leaving could be- a small spectacle for a small village?"

"Oh thank you, Witch-finder! This is wonderful news. There is simply nothing better than a spectacle of suffering to bring the wayward flocking home to God."

"Indeed. When I arrive at my destination I will mention to appropriate authorities that you were helpful in this matter."

"Witch-finder, I will pray daily for continued success in your endeavors."

The witch-finder drew on black suede gloves covered on the backs with metal spikes. Miraculously, from out of the stealth of his cape, the witch-finder drew yards of huge clanking chain, spiked manacles and leg irons. He efficiently imprisoned Harry wrists and ankles. The Witch-finder pulled him roughly by the chain to his feet, out the cell door, up steep narrow steps, through another door, down a hall, and out of the church. Harry blinked back the daylight. He had stumbled and fallen several times in the church, twice on the steps, but somehow was not hurt. The stone simply gave way and cushioned him. The manacles he was pulled by had spikes on the inside. They too gave way, cushioning his skin. Still, something that looked and smelled like blood trickled freely from his ankles and wrists, dripping down his hands and fingers.

Outside, the witch-finder tied a length of rope to the chain on Harry's manacles and tied off the other end to the saddle of a large black stallion. The man mounted effortlessly, sat very straight, held up gloved fingers to just touch the brim of his hat to Father Malfoy and lead Harry behind his horse through the village. Some people threw small stones at Harry. Some people threw rotten eggs and vegetables. Everything seemed to bounce off before hitting him. Everyone was especially careful not to hit the fine horse or, God forbid, the witch-finder.

When Harry neared the potters, he noticed that Vernon was waiting there for him. Vernon made a grand show of shouting loudest and throwing as many stones as possible at him. Then Harry passed by the Widow Figg's place. She smiled and gave him a knowing wink. When they completed the grand tour of the only place Harry had ever known and had entered the forest. Harry's rescuer slowed and dismounted. He rounded on the few children still following, still tossing things at Harry, ordering them to run home before they got eaten- by something. Harry had never seen any of them run so fast. Suddenly the large black stallion faded into a large pile of dried leaves. It blew away on the coming storm, as did the straw that became of his manacles and leg irons. The witch-finder stepped closer to Harry holding out long suede dressed fingers. "Give me your hand."

-Soon up, Chapter 3- Starting Over. All reviews, comments, suggestions, corrections, flames even, adored and appreciated!


	4. Starting Over

Hambares (lots more witch-finder for you) Carol J (glad you like this AU) Flurry (Hope the rest is fun to read too) Wolfawaken ( will do my best) the-dreamer4 (haven't read the Deryni stories. Guess they are on my list now! Glad you like it so far.)

Hambares! Carol J! Flurry! wolfawaken! The-dreamer4! Thanks for taking the time and all your kind words. This one is for you!

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Three

Starting Over

Harry gave the witch-finder his hand and closed his eyes instinctively. He felt a very strange sensation. For a moment he was anchored to the soft suede-gloved hand and nothing else, not the forest around them, not the clay or the ground, and not even the world. Then Harry knew that he was somewhere else entirely. He opened his eyes. The witch-finder let go of Harry's hand. They were standing inside by the front door of what was only a humble cottage by wizarding standards but was the grandest house that Harry had seen. For one thing the floor was not packed earth with rushes scattered around. It was smooth, dark, lustrous wood.

"You live here?"

"Sometimes. My name is Snape. Come. You need to bathe and rest."

Snape showed Harry a room with a large tub in one corner and a huge bed in the middle. The bed was big enough for five of Harry or possibly ten if everyone scrunched up a bit. There was a small lit fireplace too. Snape waved his hand and filled the tub with water, placed a spell to keep the water warm, and another to keep the water clean.

"Thank you."

"Everything in this room is yours to use as you wish. There are clean clothes that will fit you in those drawers and in that wardrobe. I'll leave you to it. If you wish to find me later I have no doubt you will."

By the wash tub, Harry found very fine soap- not that he knew much about soap. This was certainly nicer than the soap Uncle Vernon used. The water was a nice temperature too. Harry took his time because the water felt so wonderful. The soap smelled good, fresh and green like grass after the rain. Harry washed every inch of himself and then decided to do it again for good measure. He loved this soap! The soap didn't even make the water soapy! In fact Harry hadn't made the water dirty either. He wondered about that. He hadn't been covered in clay of course but knew he was dirty enough to make the water dirty before he bathed. When he felt that if he stayed in another minute that he'd never get out Harry ducked down, made sure all the soap was out of his hair, and climbed out of the wash tub.

He noticed the dirty clothes he had taken off and left in a pile on the floor by the tub were gone now. He looked for a rag to dry himself. The thing nearest to him was too impossibly fine to be meant for such a purpose. It was the color of fresh cream and large enough to get lost in and so impossibly soft that one would think it would only rub the water around, not absorb it. It did absorb the water and was not the least bit damp when Harry was dry. Harry thought he should wipe up the puddle he had made but found no water on the wood floor to wipe.

Harry went to the drawers the witch-finder had indicated, but stopped dead in his tracks, and whirled when he saw movement at his periphery. It was his own reflection as he had never seen it before. Looking at this was like looking at another person. The detail was that sharp. There was no distortion as one always has looking at a lake or a piece of polished metal. Harry had never seen anything like it. He moved forward and touched it then snatched his hand back. It was cooler than he expected. He touched it again. It was glass, very fine glass! He did not know what made it reflect as it did. When he backed away Harry stared at himself for a moment and grinned. Vernon was right. He was an ugly boy. Perhaps he might look better dressed.

Harry opened the drawers one by one. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with some of the items he found there or with so many clothes in general. The widow once had given him two sets of clothes that she had sewed for Harry. Vernon sold the nicer set.

Harry pulled on very soft and finely made light colored trousers that fit very snug to his skin and a shirt made of the same material. He would have prefered a larger shirt, one that did not cling so; but this one was quite comfortable. He didn't bother looking at his reflection again because he knew these clothes wouldn't help much. He didn't care really.

Harry set off to find the witch-finder. He found him sitting in a plush chair in a room with a large fire and lots of books. Harry noticed the witch-finder had changed his clothes as well. He was now dressed even more like Father Malfoy.

"Witch-finder Snape?"

Snape glanced up, then quickly stood drawing a stick out of his clothes. He left the book behind him on the chair.

"What happened?"

"Er- I took a bath?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes."

"Why are you in your smalls?"

"What do you mean?"

"What you are wearing are small clothes generally worn under proper clothing."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I couldn't figure out what a lot of it was for."

Snape put his stick away and walked toward Harry's room. Harry wasn't sure whether he should follow the witch-finder. So he just stood there. Snape walked into the room again a few seconds later. Harry thought the man looked agitated but did not know why.

"Harry. What you are wearing is a good start. If you will come with me I will show you the rest."

An hour later Harry was properly dressed according to the witch-finder. He wore black robes like the witch-finder's. He even had on black boots which did not pinch like the shoes he had to wear for church. These were so comfortable it was almost like being barefoot maybe better in some ways. Also Harry knew now where all the clothes he owned went, how to get them there, and when to wear them.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid."

"Sure I am! I'm the stupidest boy in the whole village! You can ask anyone," Harry was smiling at him as if he thought being the most stupid boy were some kind of honor.

"Just who told you this?"

"My uncle- but lots of the villagers call me Dim Harry or Thick Harry or Brainless Harry."

"I see. How many of the other village boys know half as much as you know, Harry?"

Harry had never contemplated that sort of a question before. Harry didn't know the other village boys very well. He knew their names to say hello of course.

"I don't know."

"I do. None of them."

"Are you certain? How-"

"Father Malfoy told me in a matter of speaking. Draco is the only one among them who can read owing to the fact that his mother was seduced by a priest. You and Draco both know the Muggle Bible though you seem to have taken it more to heart than he. However Draco is not a master craftsman whose work is acclaimed at least as far as London."

"What's london?"

"Clearly there are gaps in your education. We'll see what we can do about closing those starting tomorrow. Tonight you will familiarize yourself with the house, eat, and sleep in that order. I will show you the rest of the house." Snape started to walk away then thought better of it. "Come, Harry."

The man took Harry room by room answering Harry's questions as they went. When they approached the kitchen, he stopped.

"We are not alone in this house. I am about to introduce you to someone- who is not like us. He looks different. Do not be alarmed. There is no reason to fear him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Witch-finder Snape." The man started to say something then thought the better of it.

When they walked into the kitchen Harry's senses reeled with all the delicious scents. No one else was in there, though.

"Dobby!" the witch-finder barked in a very commanding voice making Harry start.

The next thing Harry knew he was looking at slight, intelligent-looking creature with large pointed ears and huge eyes.

"Hello. I'm Harry. Pleased to meet you."

The being bowed deeply and said reverently "Dobby is very glad to meet the famous Harry Potter, sir."

"Famous?"

"Yes! Harry Potter very famous! Harry Potter make fruits bowl, soups bowls, and afters bowls in this very house, sir, and even Dobby's friend the teapot!" Dobby said making a sweeping gesture toward it with his hand as anyone might to indicate a precious object. "Harry Potter is a genius!"

"Few of our kind favorably impress House-elves. You on the hand are something of a legend among them. Dobby informed me of your circumstance. He is the reason you are here now."

"My thanks to you, to both of you. Did the clay tell you what happened to me, Dobby?"

"Dobby never met a teapot half so nice as Harry Potter's teapot, sir. Dobby's friend Harry Potter's teapot woke up upset and tell what happened to Harry Potter. Dobby very worried about Harry Potter and tell Master Snape, sir."

Harry smiled shyly. No one but the Widow Figg had ever complimented a piece of his work knowing that he had made it.

"I'm so glad you like my teapot, Dobby."

The House-elf smiled showing every single tooth in his head.

"Harry, would you prefer to eat here in the kitchen?"

"Yes please!"

Snape was proud of how well Harry was adjusting. He was also glad the boy seemed to have made a friend. Perhaps if Harry grew fond of the House-elf when he left Harry might choose to visit from time to time if only to see Dobby.

Dinner was relatively bland, simple fare, designed to be highly nutritious and easily digestible. Harry did not eat much. Snape did not expect him to eat as much as he did. After, Snape handed him a potion and told him to drink it. Harry did and fell asleep in his chair.

Snape levitated Harry to the boy's room. He set him down on one side of the bed, spelled him into a nightshirt, performed a teeth cleaning spell, drew the covers back on the other, then levitated the boy and nestled him down on the feather bed. Snape drew his wand and checked the damage that the Muggles had inflicted. Several healing spells later, Snape was satisfied that he had taken care of the worst of it. Snape tucked the covers around him, extinguished all but the fire and one dim wizard light, closed the door behind him, and headed to his study to plan tomorrow's lesson for Harry.

-Next up- Sorting of Wizards. Reviews welcome and most appreciated. Thanks just for reading!


	5. Sorting of Wizards

Well, I've been writing like mad and a very very rough draft is complete! That's right I now know what's going to happen more or less! I'm so excited I can hardly sit still to type this!

Thanks anon- I'm blushing!

Thank you Hambares! Excellent question about the clay. The answer figures in rather directly to every aspect of this story including the big climax, so I won't ruin it for you. You will hear a whole lot more about that I promise.

Thanks Setq'-in! I appreciate it!

Flurry- Yes, you are so right. Harry is sweet and should have had a nicer life. I will now give Harry some honey and make things better. Thank you!

anon, Hambares, Setq'in, and Flurry, this chapter is my love for you which is boundless concentrated into compact fan fic form:

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Three

Sorting of Wizards

Harry woke feeling like he was floating on a feather. When he opened his eyes he thought he was still dreaming. He couldn't remember ever waking up feeling this good in real life. Then he realized where he was. Harry sat up in the bed. He ran his hand over it. He had never slept on anything like this before. His uncle slept on a cot. He slept on his uncle's cot once when Vernon was away with the wagon. Harry had taken a bath first so that he didn't get clay all over it. Harry didn't care for the cot. It smelled more strongly of his uncle than Harry imagined it might. It gave him bad dreams. Other than the one time, Harry slept on the floor for as many nights as he could remember.

Harry got out of bed and went to the window. He put his hand on the glass. He couldn't believe the luxuries here. His uncle had been well off compared to most men in the village. Nothing his uncle owned compared to anything in this house, well except for the teapot and the other items Harry had made. Suddenly he wondered about that. Why would anyone like Witch-finder Snape give houseroom to anything he made? Dobby seemed to like his pots. Perhaps Dobby had bought them. It was still dark out with no moon. Since he could not see much, he put his hand against the glass again marveling at the sheer extravagance of using sheets of clear glass for windows!

Harry used the chamberpot under the bed that he had found was clean even after use. He washed in the tub, still the same lovely temperature as when he had first gotten into it yesterday. Harry dried and carefully dressed himself. He felt entirely lazy. He hadn't done one useful thing since Witch-finder Snape had brought him here. Maybe if he could find some way to make himself useful the witch-finder might let him stay for a while, or at least a while longer than if he were of no use at all.

Harry crept around the house as silently as possible. Wearing boots made that more difficult. Still, Harry was good at being quiet when he needed to be. It was almost second nature after living a whole life around his Uncle Vernon. Harry walked around a corner and ran into the witch-finder's stick that Snape was holding at chest level.

"It is you," the man said obviously relieved to see him. "I thought you would be still asleep at least for another hour."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, rubbing his breast bone where he had walked into the end of the stick.

"It seems sleeping potions effect you with less than average duration."

"Is that what you gave me? Er, thank you. I slept very well, Witch-finder Snape."

"Are you hungry?"

Harry smiled and felt a little embarrassed. He wasn't used to being offered food all the time. Even the Widow had never tried feeding him so often since he had grown up.

"You'll make me fat as Uncle Vernon."

"How fat is your uncle?"

"He's enormous! Maybe you saw him. He was the really big man throwing the most stones."

The witch-finder said nothing. He only watched Harry. Finally he said. "Let us have breakfast. You need not eat enough to make you as fat as your uncle."

They ate oatmeal with cream laden milk, honey, and strawberries. Strawberries were a rare treat for Harry. Harry had seen but never tasted honey and was completely fascinated. First he took a tiny bit just to see if he might like it. Then he took just a small bit and drizzled it atop his oatmeal. When he had eaten it all off the top, he rather shyly asked Snape if he might take more honey without being rude.

"Harry!" Snape picked up the honey and plonked it down in front of Harry. "Have the lot but never ask me if you may eat. While you are in this house you will eat as much of anything as you like. There is no army to feed in the basement! There are no blockades on the supply lines!"

"Why are you good to me?"

"Because I used to be you."

Harry said nothing but seemed to think about that for a while. Finally he looked up at Snape again. "I'm sorry."

"You say that often."

"I'm sorry about a lot of things."

"Eat more honey."

Harry did.

"I wanted to ask you-"

"Yes?"

"What can I do?"

"What do mean precisely?"

"For you, to pay back for what I owe you?"

"You owe me nothing."

"I owe you my life, you and Dobby both. I doubt I'll every be able to repay either of you for that, but at least I can work for you both since you are giving me food and houseroom."

"You have given us both your thanks. It is enough, Harry."

"I can work hard! I can bake bread! I could make a kiln and throw more pots for Dobby! You could sell the rest like my uncle did! I can earn my keep! Please don't send me away!"

"Harry! Listen to me now. You are free to stay here as long as you wish. If you enjoy baking you may do so occasionally. If you would like to build a kiln because you enjoy throwing pots, I will help you to do that. However, you are here as my guest. I do not require you to enrich my savings. There is no need for you to do manual labor in this house."

"But I don't know how to do anything else."

"That is why I think you should learn new things. Last night I planned a lesson. I have books that you welcome to read. I can show you things and answer your questions. Harry, you do realize that you are magical?"

Harry knew that being a potter was a magical calling. The clay had told him so. It was a potter's responsibity to free the magic in the earth. The clay was part of the earth. Every lump of clay had its own voice and a story to tell the world. A potter was under a sacred obligation to release the clay from the earth and the story from the clay. Once the story was told it must be preserved, baked hard in a kiln to remain for anyone who would listen to the clay to hear a story of the earth.

"We're both witches. Aren't we?"

"Yes, but since we are both male we call ourselves wizards."

"Wizards? I never heard that word in the village."

"The villagers are called Muggles since they are non-magical. We do not allow Muggles to learn about us."

"I guess that makes sense considering what they do. Does being wizards make us evil?"

"No. There are good wizards just as there are good Muggles. You are not evil, Harry. Neither are the Muggles of your village. What you tried to do for the girl was good. Your actions were brave though thoroughly unwise. Though what they did was wrong, they acted out of fear and ignorance. Muggles and wizards both are only evil if they do evil, knowing it is evil."

"You're not even a real witch-finder!"

"I found you."

Harry smiled.

"Yes, you found me."

Harry watched as something like a shadow passed over Snape's features.

"The witch-finder was looking for you. He found me instead. I am an evil wizard."

Suddenly, there was a popping sound. Snape stood drawing the stick. He grabbed Harry out of his chair, sending the chair across the kitchen. Snape stepped between the popping noise and Harry.

"Ah, Severus! So good to see you, my friend. You are looking well!"

"If our past friendship meant anything, you would honor our agreement of no future dealings."

"Fortunately, my dealings are not with you, dear boy. This must be Harry standing behind you! Hello Harry! I am so glad to finally meet you. I am Albus of Dumbledore."

Harry very cautiously peaked out from behind Snape's robes to see a tall, hale, old man with long white hair and beard and a very pleasant smile that made his bluer than blue eyes sparkle. He was wearing robes of every color that Harry had every seen a flower. He looked like a walking rainbow but more vivid. That was not why he looked odd to Harry. Harry had never seen anyone who looked so old before, nor any old person who looked so very healthy.

"I hear you are particularly fond of honey, Harry. You must be a very wise boy indeed. Would you care for a sweet?"

The man reached into his robe and pulled out a handful of brightly colored pebbles. They were very pretty but Harry could think of no use for one. It bothered him that this stranger knew he liked honey, though, when Harry only found that out moments ago. Still, any observant eye could have drawn the same conclusion by glancing at the breakfast dishes. All the same the man had tried to seem mysterious about it. That bothered Harry too. He did not trust this man and wouldn't even if the witch-fin- if Master Snape did, which clearly Master Snape did not.

"No thank you."

This decision seemed to displease the old man.

"Severus?" said the old man holding out the pebbles again.

"Our agreement, Albus?" Albus shrugged put one in his mouth and the rest away again. Harry felt Snape relax just a bit and knew he had made the right choice by refusing one. "If you have dealings with Harry as you claim state the nature of your business. Then leave, Albus. I will not ask again."

"I've come to escort Harry home to Dumbledore Castle, of course! You'll love it there, Harry. I hear you are quite the potter! Did I mention we have a kiln at Dumbledore Castle? We also keep bees, and-"

"Strange, I don't recall Dumbledore Castle having a kiln."

"Of you don't, Severus! We have had one only since yesterday! Dumbledore Castle is a school, Harry. You may live there as long as you like and consider it your home. You will learn all you need to know the Wizarding World and find your place in it! There are other students your age, of course, some older and some younger. I am certain you will make many good friends there and have some wonderful adventures too! Are you ready to leave, my boy?"

"I am staying," said Harry.

Dumbledore's jolly good humor melted away just like the candy on his tongue, completely.

"I was afraid you might fall under- unsavory influence before I had time to collect you, my boy. It is not your fault, Harry. It is- the pity of innocence- that it can be led- so easily astray." Suddenly Albus' good mood and twinkle returned. This time he was aiming them at Master Snape like weapons. It was ugly. It angered Harry that anyone could mistreat Master Snape. "I have of course taken the appropriate steps and have had myself declared Harry's guardian until he reaches his majority. I have the papers here- if you care to look them over, Severus." Albus held up a scroll of some sort. Master Snape did not move from his spot.

The clay spoke to Harry. Told Harry what to say. Harry stepped out to stand slightly to Snape's right.

"I am no boy, sir, and certainly not your boy. I am eighteen as of my birthday, the Twenty third of June. I have skills. I've supported myself and family for over half my life. I will stay here or go at Master Snape pleasure. When I go I will make my own way. I am -not- going anywhere with you."

Dumbledore's smile faded as did the mad twinkle in his eyes.

"I think you must be mistaken, Harry. You are seventeen. Your birthday was the Thirty First of July of that year-"

"You are mistaken, sir. You seem to have me confused with my cousin, also named Harry. As I told you, my birthday is the Twenty third of June just past. I believe I would know better than you."

"Very best of luck with Harry's cousin, Albus. Dobby!"

"What may Dobby do for Master Snape, sir?"

"Please see to it that Albus is escorted off this property by any means necessary."

"I was leaving, Dobby. Harry, Severus, I will see you both again soon."

There was another pop. The rainbow wizard was gone.

"Dobby, check to make certain he has left no mischief behind him. Harry, I am a powerful wizard. However I can guarantee you that I can not single-handedly protect you, not from Albus of Dumbledore."

"What does he want with me?"

"I do not know. We will leave now for you are not safe here."

Harry smiled. "You sure you're an evil wizard?"

"There are worse. Give me your hand."

-Thanks just for reading! A poem for the best potential muses in the world aka reviewers:

All reviews of what you've read  
Put ideas into my head  
And make me think my story through  
Compelling me to write for you  
If you want to make me write  
Send me a critique tonight  
Or if you want to make my day  
You can send a FLAME my way!  
One humble fact is always true  
If you write me I write for you!


	6. The Book of Severus

Hambares! I'm just a strange one. I've never had a flame which makes me kind of want one! The good/evil thing- kind of fun to explore those concepts through these particular characters, especially how good can be confused with evil and vice versa, or how one can come of the other, and moral relativism vs. absolutism, but will try not to whack readers over the heads since mainly I just want to tell a little story and keep everyone from getting bored enough to want to kill me. Thank you so much for your continuing interest and for taking the time to review!

Kar' Nia! Thanks! And a whale sized thank you for pointing out how confusing my description was. I changed it on the outside and will get to the one on the prologue as soon as I post this. Believe me the last thing I want is put someone off reading this because they thought there wouldn't be magic. So happy you've liked the story so far: )

Kyer! Thank you! I'd say he is more a manipulative!self-deluded!Albus, at least according to Snape. Then again he might not be much of a moral authority. I guess you'll have to decide if he's evil. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell that kind of thing when you only see a character from other characters POVs. I don't think this Albus would do things he thought were evil. I've never tried my hand at pottery. I have read quite a lot about it for this piece and know slip from glaze and greenware from a potsherd! I can hear you snickering at me: )

Aoimoku! Thanks! Sorry no more Draco in this one. I'm sure he is upset about the miniscule part that I gave him too and is looking over his contract with his army of lawyers to determine how hard he can sue me as we speak. I'm hoping to get back to Unity soon if you are interested. That is my only HP/DM piece currently a WIP. I'll stop with the shameless self -pimping now and will slap my own wrist. I'm so over the moon that you like poor cute!Harry! I like him too. : )

Fluffy! I think Albus IS Minister of Magic in this story or the closest thing to one. Snape can be hard on himself (and everyone else.) There is also lots of stuff mysterious and grim that Harry doesn't know yet. Hope you like this chapter: )

Woohoo after many creative alternatives, Grindelwald's name is spelled right. Hope you all like this chapter. I write for you.

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Five

The Book of Severus

Snape apparated Harry to a small weathered cottage deep in a wood that had one distinct benefit in its favor. Albus had never been there.

Harry glanced around. The place looked too rickety to inspire much exploration. There was a wood floor here too. This one was split in places and dangerously creaky. Stairs that did not look sturdy enough to hold Harry's weight lead to an upper level. There was a table with no chairs and a wooden book shelf empty except the left hand corner of the bottom shelf . There skeletal remains lingered of something small that had apparently curled up and died. The place was far from abandon by the living. Spiders staked out all the good corners. Sleeping bats hung in the hearth.

"Dobby!"

"Dobby is here, Master Snape," said the House-Elf setting Harry's teapot carefully on the dusty table.

"Please make this place hospitable while we are gone." Dobby grinned happily, bowed deeply, and scampered up the stairs, shaking dust loose in his wake.

"Where are we going?" asked Harry.

"I want you to meet someone. Because of the wards we will have to walk."

"I don't mind walking."

"While we are here I will use magic only as a last resort. Stay focused and do not break a leg."

The woods were thick and dark with overgrowth. Harry had to remind himself that there was daylight somewhere above, for he could not see it. The ground was uneven and rocky except where it wasn't. Snape told Harry not to step in those places. Logs, leaves and rotting debris hid caves and holes that seemed to be lurking everywhere. Snape knew the way and lead Harry carefully pointing our the worst of the dangers before they came upon them.

"I hope you are not afraid of dragons," Snape said suddenly at one point.

"No, I don't think so."

Harry looked for them did not see any. After about three hours of hard effort they were a little over a half a mile from the cabin. Snape pulled a vial out of his cloak.

"Here, drink this."

"What is it?'

"Do you care?"

"No. Would you like half?"

After perhaps another two hours, they came to a clearing with a small spring. Snape declared they would rest here. The water smelled like rotten eggs. Snape assured Harry it was fine to drink. It tasted somewhat worse than rotten eggs and the potion Snape had given him earlier. Harry drank it anyway.

"Tell me about Albus."

"I first met him when I was eleven. I lived with my father, a Muggle. He was rather like your uncle though not fat. I don't remember my mother. Albus told me she was a witch. He swept me away from my unhappy childhood to the castle he was talking about. There I found that I was very good at Potions. Albus was delighted. Apparently few of his charges had ever excelled in that discipline. When I was sixteen, he convinced me to leave the school and pledge my services to a Dark Lord."

"What's a Dark Lord?"

"That's what Albus calls wizards he decides to kill. I did not know that at the time. Albus has a talent for making his campaigns sound vitally important. That wizard's name was Grindelwald. He lived in a castle built in the middle of nowhere. He never left it. He knew Albus was hunting him. That knowledge made him distrustful and something of a hermit. I served as his potions brewer as well as his food taster. For about a year, he watched me like a hawk. Eventually, he just grew tired of watching. At Albus' behest I poisoned both of us by poisoning his food. The poison I used was not designed to kill. It weakened us temporarily both physically and magically. Albus showed up and dispatched Grindelwald, ridding the world of a Dark Lord."

"Was Grindelwald evil?"

"Not as I knew him. I'd heard stories about him. He was a very powerful wizard. Had he more ambition, courage, or good sense he may have posed a danger to Albus. In Albus' mind that is what constitutes a Dark Lord, Harry, anyone powerful enough to pose any sort of threat to Albus. After Albus defeated Grindelwald, he had no further use for me. He informed me that my service to a Dark Lord had tainted me. Perhaps it did. Regardless, I was no longer welcome at Castle Dumbledore. He left me in my physically and magically weakened state there in the ruins of Grindelwald's Castle to fend for myself."

"That's horrible. What did you do?"

"Nothing much. A day later, I was captured by a witch-finder. I don't know for certain that was Albus' doing. I will always have my suspicions. I managed to kill the witch-finder after a couple of days as soon as my magic returned. I put myself back together and began selling potions. I was on my feet with property of my own in a lucrative trade when Albus found me a couple of years later. This time he wanted my help to defeat some Dark Lord from the town of Voldemort. He promised personal redemption and a position teaching Potions at Castle Dumbledore. I rather impolitely declined his offer. He was not happy but seemed to accept that decision. Instead, we agreed to spend the rest of our lives avoiding one another. I never saw him again until this morning."

"Do you think that's what he wants from me? To kill some Dark Lord for him?"

"That is a possibility. Come Harry, these woods are a danger at night."

A few hours later the forest fell away. The ground became steep and more rocky. Eventually they were climbing. Snape went first, sometimes pulling Harry up after him. About midway up the mountain, as dusk was approaching, they came upon the mouth of a cave.

"Stay here until I call you," Snape said and disappeared into the cave. Harry stood there for a while thinking Master Snape might only be a minute. Then Harry paced back and forth a bit careful not to get too near the edge. Eventually, Harry sat down on the ledge kicking his feet at the air. He had a spectacular view of, well, nothing much really but it was pretty. The sun was setting on the other side of the mountain. There was no sign of the hand of man as far as he could see. Harry picked up a small pebble to throw and then put it down again realizing how easily and unintentionally he could have killed something, had he tossed it. Harry was about to stand up again when Snape returned, "Harry, come."

-Thanks so much for reading! All reviews welcome, FLAMES TOO! Next up, Meet the Seer!


	7. Meet the Seer

_Many thanks to all my lovely reviewers of Chapter Five:_

_Hambares- Sorry it took me so long to introduce you to the seer. Life does get in the way of my obsessions. Albus will return!  
TheWingedWhispered- Wait no longer! I'm so happy you like it!  
Kyer- Good points about dictators and Lucifer. And you are right. Galdalf was no Hufflepuff either. Glad I've entertained you so far!  
Flurry- Yes all the chapters have been a bit shorter than in most of my stories. I don't kinow why exactly, but I'll work on it. I think this one is a bit longer than the last.  
Tsuonae-Oh my! Thank you! I'd tell you that kissing my feet is unnecessary if I didn't enjoy it so much.  
Neori- actually Harry is seventeen and lied to Albus. The date he gave was his cousin Dudley's B-day in canon- though Duds and Petunia did not survive in this AU. Still Harry is a very innocent seventeen. I don't imagine he's had time for much besides work._

_This chapter is for you!_

Chapter Six

Meet the Seer

Harry stood and met Snape at the mouth of the cave.

"It is dark in there. If you give me your hand I will guide you."

Master Snape's fingers closed lightly aroung his. The air in the cave was cool and smelled vaguely earthy. What was left of the daylight penetrated only a few feet into the entrance. A second later, Harry realized what dark was. He could feel panic standing right there next to him as surely as he felt Master Snape's cool dry hand. Closing his eyes made Harry feel less disoriented. He stumbled blindly along, wishing Master Severus made some sort of noise as he walked. Harry could not even hear him breathing. He held tightly onto the hand in the darkness and let it guide him into what seemed a rather close passageway.

"Duck your head now," said Snape suddenly.

It took Harry a moment to process the command. Harry did duck but not nearly soon enough and almost succeeded in knocking himself out cold. The hand let go of his. Time seemed to stand still. Harry felt as if the dark had swallowed him. Harry sat before he fell down. Suddenly he felt Master Snape's hands running gently through his hair and over his face.

"Did I not just tell you to duck?"

"Sorry."

"Are you bleeding?"

"I don't think so."

"Can you move?"

"Yes."

Snape's hand found Harry's again.

"Are you dizzy?"

"A bit. I'm all right."

"Do stay low this time. Come."

Soon they rounded a bend into a huge well lit cavern. There were multi-colored stalagmites and stalagtites that reminded Harry of the teeth of some giant beast. Here and there some sort of crystals glinted from the walls. There was a small waterfall cascading into a rippling pool that filtered off into another cavern.

"Severus, Harry, welcome!" said a young female voice.

Harry could not locate her at first because of the strange acoustics of the cavern. Sound echoed, amplified, and distorted here lending another layer to the feeling of otherworldliness. Finally Harry saw movement. A girl was sitting surrounded by books on a round nearly bed-sized pillow with tassles. The girl had a long brown braid and wore plain gray wool robes. As Harry approached he noticed that there was something wrong with her eyes.

"Are you blind?" asked Harry.

"My apologies for his manners, Hermione."

"Harry is fine, Severus. You know I'm not so thin-skinned. I put up with you, don't I? Hello Harry, I'm Hermione and yes, I am blind. Does that bother you?"

"No- but I'm sorry."

She smiled a smile that lit her face up and reached both her hand in Harry's direction.

"Thank you. I'm sorry Albus is after you. Here sit with me but do mind the books."

Harry reached out and took both of her hands in his, sliding to sit on the pillow next to her in a space between her books.

"Oh my! I only have one callous on this finger here from writing. Your hands are rough all over and so strong!"

"Thank you. What's it like being blind?"

She laughed.

"It's more complicated than closing your eyes, I'm afraid. The cave must give you some idea. I'm getting used to it. Severus helps."

"So you weren't- born that way?"

"No. Albus blinded me as a favor about a year ago."

"A favor?"

"Well, that's what he says. It's a long story. You should get settled first. Winky?"

"Winky here Missy Miney! What may Winky do?"

This House-elf was smaller than Dobby and wore more clothes. In fact, Winky was dressed in bright blue robes far finer than Hermione's.

"Get Harry and Severus settled before we eat, please Winky."

"Winky very excited!" She hopped from one foot to another as if to prove the fact. "Missy Miney never have more guests than Master Severus! Missy Miney's guests be coming with Winky now!"

They followed Winky deeper into the caverns. She lit the cavern with elf-lights as they went. She took Harry into an unused section and conjured what he requested there. Harry's cave room was very much a replica of his room at the first house that Master Snape had taken Harry. Master Snape's room Harry was horrified to find out, had a cot, a wash basin, and nothing else.

"Master Snape, you should take my room. I can sleep here."

"This is all I need. We are only staying a night."

"But it's not right for me to have a real bed and a real bath if you don't. We'll both use my room! My bed's more than big enough for-"

"Winky!"

"What may Winky do for Master Severus, sir?"

"I find I require a bed and a bath exactly like his."

Satisfied, Harry returned to his room. His clothes were clean again when Harry stepped out of his bath. He dressed and found his way back to Hermione's main cavern. Master Snape was already there. He and Hermione seemed to be arguing.

"But I read it! If you'll just give me a moment, I'll find it!"

"I have no doubt that you read it. Just because it is written in a book-"

"Here it is! You'll find it on page three hundred and ninty-four!"

Snape huffed out a breath, took the book, found the page, and read. After a minute he took her hand gently and placed the book in it.

"As I was saying, you wretched little know-it-all, just because it is in a book does not make it so. If you put that quantity of powdered dragon's blood anywhere near a vitriolic solution you will be lucky to live long enough to write about the experience."

"All right, I believe you. That's another correction I'll have to make then."

"How do you read books, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled in his direction.

"Hello again Harry. I Charm them to read themselves to me, of course!"

"Harry has no magical training, Hermione."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"Master Snape is going to teach me."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Oh Harry! I really am sorry for you then! You are the very last person I'd want as a teacher, Mas-ter Snape!"

"Do you think we might eat something sometime in the next decade?"

"Of course. Winky?"

"Winky is here, Missy Miney!"

"We are ready for dinner."

Dinner was a bean, barley and vegetable stew with thick crusty bread. While they ate, Hermione told Harry how Albus had stolen her as a baby from Muggle parents. She grew up in Castle Dumbledore. Albus decided he wanted her to train as a Seer. Hermione wanted to become an Arithmancer, what ever that is. Harry wasn't too clear on that. Furthermore she considered Divination to be a woolly discipline. When she told Albus, he magically blinded her believing her second sight would sharpen with the loss of primary vision.

"Did it?" Harry asked between bites.

"How would I know? I was never a Seer to begin with Harry."

"Then why?"

"One thing I can see is patterns. Patterns repeat with slight variations. That is what history is."

"Patterns?"

"Yes. Albus' long history is a series of repetitive events. He meddles in lives for his own benefit. Only the people involved change from generation to generation. While he improves some lives with his meddling, he destroys others completely. Anyone with skills, power, or a mind that threatens him, he eliminates or neutralizes. Severus got used, discarded, and very nearly eliminated. I got neutralized and then escaped from him. I wouldn't be much use or threat to him now of course but didn't fancy hanging about Castle Dumbledore after he blinded me."

"How did you and Master Snape meet?"

"We met through a third party, a friend to both of us. At the castle there is a half-Giant. He is the creature-keeper there. His name is Hagrid. He's been at Castle Dumbledore for years. He looks quite fierce, Harry, but is a gentle and kind soul. He is my very best friend since I was little. When Albus blinded me, Hagrid took me away and brought me to Severus. He couldn't stay with me because his creatures need him. Really I think he needs them. Anyway, he decided to let Severus magically alter his memories so that he couldn't remember helping me and couldn't tell Albus where I was. After that, Severus and I actually lived together for a while!"

"Must you make it sound sordid?"

"We drove each other completely mad. We're both solitary beings, far too much alike in some ways. Severus knew of this place. He'd warded it years ago. It's perfect for me! I took Winky. He kept Dobby. He brings me books when he visits, though he doesn't seem to have brought me any this time."

Severus reached into his cloak and took out something incredibly small. He enlarged it into a thick leather-bound volume and placed it gently on her knees.

"Have at, termagant."

"What? Just one!"

"I don't know why I bothered. You are impossible to please."

"You didn't bother. If you'd bothered you'd have shrunk me a couple of dozen. I'll have read this by the time you leave."

"We -were- in a hurry."

"Very well, I'll accept Albus as an excuse. I do expect twice the usual number next time."

"Have I told you lately what a bossy, spoiled, shrill, little ingrate you are?"

"We have the perfect relationship now, Harry. He stays until I throw him out or leaves when he's fed up with me. I don't know what I'd do without him. When he's here we snipe like an old married couple."

"At least the Gods have spared me that fate."

"You wouldn't know what to do with such fine fortune."

"As it seems you are confusing fortune with misery, there is no need for a wedding. Your mere fortunate presence is sufficient to demonstrate to any man the full meaning of your mistake."

"See, we can't help it, Harry."

"As scintillating as this discussion is, goodnight children. Hermione, do not keep Harry awake all night. Harry, we will be leaving here tomorrow at first light."

"No wonder he calls you Master Snape!"

"I mean it. I am not carrying Harry home tomorrow. He needs his rest."

"Yes, Nanny!"

"Never imagine that there are no benefits to being a little blind girl. If I can not wake him -you- are stuck with him." Snape whirled headed for his room.

"He doesn't mean a word of it you know."

"I'll bet he does."

"Do you think you could find your own way home from here, Harry?"

"Not even a slight chance. It must have been difficult for you coming here."

"Severus did carry me most of the way, I'm afraid."

"You didn't break a leg, did you?"

"No, I only twisted an ankle. If you ask him, he'll tell you that I did it to annoy him."

"Hermione, Master Snape said he is an evil wizard. Do you think that's true?"

"He does what he needs to do, Harry. He's fearless. While I know that Severus has done some evil things, he's always been more than decent to me. I like to think of Severus, aside from his sharp tongue that everyone has to ignore, as being like fate. Except unlike fate, people get what they deserve from him."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"No, not really. I do believe in Severus."

"I do too. I don't care what he's done. I know he's not evil."

"How did you meet him?"

"He saved me."

"He's good at that. See? If anyone deserves saving, it's you, Harry.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do. What did he save you from?"

"I was accused of being a witch."

"Someone thought you were a girl?"

"No. I mean that Muggles accused me of being magical."

"Oh. I don't know much about Muggles. I've read some of their books of course but not enough to give me a good sense of them. It's kind of ridiculous since my own parents were Muggles. I never knew them though. Albus wouldn't tell me their names or even where they lived. I do hope they are still alive somewhere. I don't regret my childhood at the castle. It was rather wonderful growing up there surrounded by books, magic, and interesting people. I do wonder what my life would have been like if I'd been raised by my parents."

"I never knew my parents either. I lived with my Muggle uncle."

"What was that like?"

"It was all right. It seems life's simpler in some ways being a Muggle."

"Do you have a wand?"

"What's a wand?"

"That's dodgy. I wonder what Severus intends to do about that?"

"You've lost me."

"Here, this is my wand."

She let go of Harry's hands, drew it from her sleeve, and held it out in both hands.

"Oh your stick! I've seen Master Snape with his."

When she put the wand away, Hermione touched Harry's shoulder. He took her hand in his, understanding touch was a sort of substitute for looking at him while they spoke.

"Why do you call him Master Snape?"

"That's what Dobby calls him."

"So why don't you call me Missy Miney?"

"All right."

"No! Call me Hermione, Harry! You are not a House-elf!"

She smiled again. Harry never remembered seeing anyone with nicer teeth.

"He doesn't seem to mind that I call him Master Snape."

"Well he wouldn't! Would he?"

"I don't know. What do you think I should call him?"

"Call him Severus."

"No, I don't want to call him that. That's what Albus calls him."

"That is his name."

"So is Master Snape."

"I suppose. He seems very fond of you."

"Does he?"

"Well, yes. For Severus. You sound tired, Harry. You'd better go to bed. We can talk some more at breakfast."

"All right. May I walk you to your room, Hermione?"

"No thanks, new book. I'm going to stay here and read for a while."

"Hermione, I'm really glad that I've met you."

"I'm glad you've come. Sleep soundly Harry. You're quite safe here. I haven't had a dragon problem for ages."

"Dragons?"

"Only small ones. They'd wander in for the bats. Winky and I cleared the bats and haven't seen a dragon since."

"Oh. Goodnight, Hermione."

That night as Harry snuggled his rather tired and sore self into the down mattress, he thought about how nice it would be to share a bed like this with another warm body. Before he dreamed of being trapped in the dark with dragons, bats, and Albus, Harry briefly wondered why Master Snape had seemed so against the idea.

_-Thanks just for reading! Next chapter is almost finished but untitled as yet. Will try to post in a couple of days. All comments, corrections, criticisms, flames- everything from hearts and kisses to extreme obscene rudeness, is welcome, longed for, and at the moment mostly kept under stylish fridge magnets! I have started making a lampshade out of them though. I am fearless that way since my home is already in danger of being featured in magazines about how not to decorate with do-it-yourself craft projects and sleeping cats. If you care to help with this one of a kind objet d'art feel free to review!_


	8. A Plan for Harry's Future

Thank you to all my sweet and wonderful reviewers. For your ideas, support, and corrections, I am most in your debt.

Neori- Thanks for sticking with me! Yes, the quality of that relationship might leave something to be desired, but works for them. I did want you to feel a bit sorry for both of them.  
Hambares- I love you. Your refrigerator magnets sound quite stylish to me.  
DestinyEntwinements- Yes! You will see a couple more familiar faces pop up.  
TheWingedWhispered- Honestly, I don't imagine Harry has a very good handle on what sleeping in the same bed might entail beyond body heat and company. I do think he'd be curious if he did. I think Severus recognizes his innocence too.  
Faithful Feather- Glad you like the pace. I'm afraid it might be too slow for most peoples' tastes. As you can probably gather, to me action is lifting a fork.  
MarbleGlove- The plot is a bit slow to join us. I think there is one, sort of. I think.  
miki- I'm glad you find it fresh, well, by fan-fiction standards.  
ASemipotentAuthor- Happy you like the Earth Magic aspects. I'll be combining that with other magical traditions through Harry's profession. I hope that is a tease that will keep you reading!

Thank you all so much for taking the time. I write for you.

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Six

A Plan for Harry's Future

The next morning before first light, Snape shook Harry awake. Snape was wearing only his shirt, trousers, and boots. Harry had never seen Snape look so- nude.

"Good morning."

"If you want breakfast, hurry," said Snape leaving Harry to dress. Harry dressed to leave and met Snape and Hermione, who were already eating.

"We didn't wait in case you wanted to sleep in, Harry. We did save you some, though." Hermione had not slept at all but had finished the book Severus had brought. They finished breakfast quickly with little conversation. Snape went back to his room immediately after. While Winky packed and shrank them food and drink to take with them, Harry sat with Hermione holding her hands. They didn't speak for a while.

"Harry, I feel like we were supposed to meet somehow. Here, I have something for you."

Hermione drew a rusty iron circle out of the pocket in her robe. It was too small for Harry to wear as a bracelet. It didn't matter that it seemed to have no use at all. Harry was grateful that Hermione wanted to give him a gift.

"Thank you!"

Hermione laughed. "It's a portkey, silly. It's magic. If anything happens, both you and Severus should hold it. Say my name three times. That will bring you both straight here. It's for emergencies. Put it on a string and wear it about your neck under your shirt. Wear it always, Harry. Don't tell Severus about it though. He's the one who gave it to me. He'll just worry if he knows that I'm without it. Why do I need it? I'm already here."

Harry slipped the ring into his pocket, then took Hermione's hands again.

Severus returned completely dressed carrying a bag that Winky had packed for them.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Hermione. We are leaving."

"When will you two be back to visit?"

"We will return when we can."

"More books next time, if Albus isn't chasing Harry."

"Your will is my command," Snape said through clenched teeth.

"That would be the day. When he's almost polite, he's already in a terrible mood, Harry. Don't break a leg what ever you do. "

"Excellent advice."

"See you, Harry! Well not really."

"Thank you for everything, Hermione."

"It is first light. Come," said Snape taking Harry's hand to lead him though to the entrance.

"How can you tell?"

But Snape was right. The sun was just beginning to rise as they exited Hermione's cave. Their climb down the mountain was nothing compared to climbing up it while bone tired as they had done yesterday. Ocassionally Harry would glance up to take in the changes in the sunrise. Severus seemed deep in concentration and oblivious to the sky. Harry grabbed his sleeve. Severus looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

"Look up."

"Hmm, very pretty."

Snape was about to turn away. Harry grabbed his sleeve again and studied his expression, while those dark eyes questioned the delay.

"You're worried about something."

"Yes."

"You're worried about Albus."

Snape looked down. His shoulders sagged slightly. "Harry, I do not know what I am doing. I can not protect you alone. I know no one."

"You know Hermione, Dobby, Winky, and me."

Snape took a deep breath and sat on the rock he had been standing on. Harry sat next to him. Both stared straight ahead at blooming greens and golds on the horizon. "Harry, one wizard, two House-Elves, a blind witch, and a potter can not hope to defeat Albus of Dumbledore. We shall all die trying. Albus will announce that he defeated two Dark Lords, a Dark Lady, and their two Dark minions, about the nature of which he'll be charmingly unclear. It will all sound terribly heroic however."

"I'm putting you all at risk. I should leave."

"Where would you go?"

Harry turned to look at Snape.

"I don't know. I can't go back to my village. There are other places though, right? Maybe I should just go to Dumbledore Castle. Do whatever he wants."

"There is another solution. You could stay with me. I will hide you and train you as best I can in preparation for both of us to face Albus when that is the only course that is left to us."

"Do you think you can train me enough for us to beat him?"

"No."

Honesty was good, Harry thought. Hoping for the best was good too, though.

"Well, we might be lucky, right?"

Harry saw a slight smile curl Snape's lips for the very first time.

"I suppose that luck is within the realm of possibility."

"I don't want to leave."

"Stay then. Come, let us go home."

As they stood to finish the descent down the mountain, Harry realized that whatever darkness and weight that had clung to Snape had dissipated. The mood seemed lighter. Perhaps just sharing the worry had made their futures look a bit brighter like the very beginning of a sunrise.

Going back was not the hardship that coming was. Harry found he remembered certain aspects of the way much better than he thought he might. They did not bother to stop at the smelly stream as neither was tired or thirsty. They traveled with more supplies this time and ate and drank as needed along the way. Still they passed most of the trip in silence, except for Snape's commands on where to step and what to avoid.

At about noon, they were very deep into the woods again. Very little here seemed familiar, as every tree looked pretty much like a hundred others they just passed to Harry. Because of the darkness, details and landmarks, such as there may have been seemed hard to pick out. Of course Harry had no idea for what he was looking. He tried to watch Severus instead to see what Severus was looking for, when Harry wasn't looking at where next to put his foot. Harry just couldn't tell what Severus used as landmarks. There was never any hesitation or confusion on his part. Harry wondered how many times Severus had made this trip and how he had ever made it the first time. Unlike Harry, Severus would have had no one to show him the way.

It was late afternoon before they made it back to the cabin, which really wasn't a cabin anymore. While it looked the same on the outside, Harry gasped as they entered the door. For one thing, the house now seemed huge. The floor that had looked about to rot through was solid, even, deeply stained, and highly polished. Harry could see his reflection in it. The formerly rickety table shone too, and now had six chairs around it and was set with silver and porcelain. Six chairs! Apparently Harry was not the only optimist in the house. Harry's fruit bowl filled with pears was the centerpiece.

"Dobby!"

"Dobby is so glad you and Harry Potter are back, Master Snape!"

"You did well. I take it the upstair is ready?"

"Dobby is not a lazy House-Elf, sir, had everything ready last night."

"I'm going to bathe and rest. Harry, you should do the same. We will have an early dinner at six."

Dobby led them upstairs showing Harry to the first door. Harry was pleased that his room was very much like the one he had at the other house, but would have been happy with the cot and wash basin Snape ordered for himself in the cave. It wasn't so long ago he had slept on his Uncle's floor. It did seem a terribly long time ago, another life ago. Harry didn't quite know how it had happened but he felt like he had known Snape his whole life.

Harry fished the ring that Hermione had given him out of his pocket. He didn't have a piece of string. Perhaps he could ask Dobby for some. For the meantime, he decided to slip in into the pocket of the dress robes he intended to wear for dinner.

Harry spent far too much time in the bath. He couldn't quite drag himself out until his fingertips and feet were wrinkled. When he finally did climb out, his body felt heavy but not so achy. He thought he might be able to fall onto the bed and sleep until tomorrow night, not that he ever would. After all, he didn't know how many days he might have here or anywhere else and did not want to waste one. With that in mind, Harry avoided even glancing at the bed with its down comforter, plump pillows, soft sheets, and thick feathery mattress. He dressed as Snape had showed him to dress for dinner, and wandered out of his room to take in the rest of Dobby's astounding accomplishment. He did not open doors on the second floor because he did not know which room was Snape's and did not want to disturb him. He did kneel down to touch the long runner rug in the hall, tracing its beautiful, colorful, ornate designs woven into the soft wool. What a world walked on something so beautiful, but then Harry had thought the same about the wildflowers that grew in his village.

"I thought you would be napping. I know Hermione didn't let you sleep much."

Harry felt embarrassed that Snape had caught him crawling around on his rug. He stood as quickly as he could, feeling himself blush. "I was just-"

"I know what you were doing."

"I'm sorry."

"I like that carpet too, Harry," Snape said in not much more than a whisper.

Harry looked up then and smiled. "You do? People- Muggles- they thought I was odd when I did things like that."

"Some Muggles do things like that too."

"Do they? I never met one. Well, there was the Widow Figg, but I don't think she was a Muggle, exactly."

"The Widow Figg?"

"I can't believe I've never told you about her!"

"You have only known me a couple of days, Harry."

"I can't believe that either."

"As I said, we have much in common. Keep in mind that Hermione and are the first of our kind you have met."

"And Albus."

"Yes. Come. You can tell me all about the Widow Figg over dinner."

Dinner was a feast of roast beef gravy and mustard sauce, a starchy pudding, roast carrots and parsnips, peas and dandilion greens. Harry ate more than he ever had at one sitting. Snape too had quite an apetite. Harry did tell Snape about the Widow Figg, her knowledge of witches and witch-hunters, and her kindnesses to him. Severus told Harry about Squibs and how they often ended up blending into the Muggle world.

"So Squibs have no magic at all then?"

"Some wizards have such small amounts of magic that they are considered Squibs. That magic can manifest in various ways. They may have heightened senses or unusually good luck. Some can manage simple potions and elementary spells. There was one case of a Squib Animagus, someone who can transform into an animal. That is considered very advanced magic. However that was all he could do. Typically though, Squibs have no magic at all."

"Maybe that's what I am, then."

"No Harry. You are a very powerful wizard."

"How do you know that?"

"I can feel it. I can feel the magic in you. So can Albus of Dumbledore."

"Can we start my lessons tomorrow?"

"That was my intention."

"Hermione said I needed a wand."

"You said you fished."

"Yes."

"Did you use a net?"

"No, I used my hands. It takes a bit of practice; but it's fairer to the fish."

"A wand is like a net, Harry."

"Oh!"

Snape placed his napkin on the table and stood. Harry did the same.

"Would you like a sleeping draught?"

"No thank you. I won't need one."

"Goodnight then, we start at first light."

"Goodnight, Master Snape."

That night Harry found out that Snape's room was right next to his own. For some reason, it gave him a warm content feeling to know that Snape slept just on the other side of his bedroom wall. He took the ring out of his pocket and slipped it under his pillow. As he settled himself in bed, Harry realized that he had no idea of what magical training consisted. Perhaps he should have asked?

-Thank you just for reading! All comments are welcome and most appreciated. Yes, even flames, though having finally received one for another story, the glamour of flames has warn off a bit. Serious though, self-expression is precious to me, mine or anyone else's. If you feel so inclined, let me have your worst.


	9. The Magic of Education

May a plethora of unusually glorious blessings grace the lives of my reviewers:

Hambares- I write for dancing! Especially when it coincides with paid vacation! I did have to stop dancing with you to write this and doubt it was worth it- but here, I did my best.   
neosildrake- Glad it sounds good so far. I hope you enjoy this too.  
hwyla- Welcome back to the story! So happy you like my take on all thing medieval and Harry being a potter. I can't believe I'm the first to do this. Everytime I think I'm being original, I find out I haven't read enough fan-fic to know that I'm not. I do swear the only person I steal from on purpose is JK (and then only in fun.) So far she has been gracious enough not to mind.  
Kateri- I am so happy to have pleased you. I hope I never disappoint you.

Thank you to each and every one of you, my lovelies! I was so moved that I give you more!

The Potter's Tale

Chapter Eight

The Magic of Education

Harry woke up very early excited about starting his training. He bathed and dressed. He was about to put the ring Hermione had given him into his pocket when it occured to him to try something that he didn't expect to work.

"Um, Dobby?"

"May Dobby do something for Harry Potter, sir?"

"Well, yes- maybe. I was wondering if you had some string?"

A ball of string about three feet in diameter materialized on the floor between them.

"Does Harry Potter need more string than this, sir?"

"Oh. I only needed a piece, really, about this long." Harry held up his hands.

The ball disappeared. A length of string cut to Harry's specifications appeared, floating in the air. Harry reached out and took it.

"Um, Dobby? Do have any string that's less scratchy?"

The length of string grew silky soft and pliant in his hand.

"Thank you, Dobby!"

Dobby bowed deeply. "Dobby is happy he could help Harry Potter, sir! May Dobby do something else to help?"

"No thank you."

"Call Dobby if Harry Potter, sir, is changing his mind!"

Dobby snapped and disappeared.

Harry knotted the ends securely, threaded the string through the circle, and drew the knot through the middle of the string. Harry gave the necklace a few good tugs. When Harry was satisfied his knot would hold, he put it on and tucked it down his collar.

When Snape went to wake Harry for breakfast he discovered that Harry was not in his room. Snape found him in the library reading from a book called Adventures in Arithmantic Theory. Since Harry remembered that Hermione enjoyed Arithmancy, that book seemed like a good choice. He had hoped it would give him a bit of an edge on his first day of training.

"How are you coming with that?"

"I can't understand a word. Good morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Perhaps you should read this instead. It is your schedule for today. On second thought, you can read it over breakfast. Come."

Harry put the book back in its place, took the parchment handed to him, and followed Snape to the table.

Breakfast was high protein, which Snape considered exceedingly fine fuel to encourage brain activity.

"Master Snape," said Harry looking over the list he was given, "I don't know what half these words mean either."

"You will before you fall asleep tonight. Eat your kippers and lentils."

Snape wasn't messing about. Every single hour except luncheon at one until dinner at eight was filled with some sort of lesson. The first on the list was Potions. Harry felt good about that. At least he had a fair idea what the word meant, or thought he did.

After breakfast, he followed Snape down to the basement that Harry was not even aware existed. He looked around at the jars of things that lined the walls and made a face when he recognized the contents of one as eyeballs, the sheer number of which signified a massacre of some type of poor creature.

"Newt," Snape supplied.

"Oh."

"Do you think that learning Potions will help you to defeat Albus of Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you'd bother teaching me Potions otherwise."

"Correct. Can you guess why learning how to make potions will help you to defeat Albus of Dumbledore?"

"Er- no."

"I'll ask you again tomorrow. Today, you will start learning how to prepare Potions ingredients. This is a shrivel fig. I want you to peel it with this knife."

At the end of two hours, Harry could peel, cut, chop, slice, dice, milk, bruise, crush, grind, and pulverize, not to mention simmer, boil, scald, infuse, distill and rehydrate, all to Snape's exacting standards. After the first ten minutes of those two hours, Harry knew he hated Potions with a passion. However, he would never admit such a fact to Master Snape. No. Much better to pretend that he was having the time of his life, so Harry attempted to plaster a smile on his face.

"You hate this. Don't you?" said Snape when Harry's two hours of Hell were finally over.

"Yes."

"Most wizards do. It will get easier."

Harry very much doubted that, but managed a genuine smile however slight.

"You did very well for your first introduction to Potions, Harry."

"Thank you, but I don't feel like I did. Master Snape, I'm not going to know the answer to your question tomorrow."

"I will ask it the next day, then. Time for Wandless Magic, Harry."

By the end of the day, Potions was Harry's very favourite subject. He actually nodded off at dinner, waking up when he had trouble breathing only to find that his face had fallen into his haggis and mashed turnips. Snape performed a cleaning spell, gave him a nutrient potion, and sent him off to bed.

Once there, Harry could not sleep. He tossed and turned, his mind hopping from one subject to the next. He relived all his various failures that day, interrupted by occasional visions of Albus- smiling, offering them sweets, killing them both. Finally he dragged himself out of bed. He pulled a robe on over his nightshirt and padded down the hall, knocking softly at Snape's door.

Snape opened it. He was still fully dressed.

"I am surprised you are awake. Come in."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you."

"It is no bother. I was only reading. Would you like to sit?" Harry looked over at the lone chair by the hearth.

"No thank you. Could I have a sleeping draught?"

"You look in danger of passing out again, Harry. Is there something on your mind?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to learn any of this," said Harry, unable to meet Snape's dark gaze.

"Of course you will learn."

"But I can't do magic! How am I supposed to learn Charms and Transfigurations if I can't do an Accio or a Lumos?"

"Harry, it was your first day. You didn't know what half those words meant this morning. Did you center clay on a wheel the first time that you tried?"

"No! It took me scads of tries! Even when I did find center, I could never get the clay to look the way it was supposed to look for ages." And Snape didn't even beat him for his mistakes. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Would you still like that sleeping draught?"

"No thank you. As is, I'll be lucky if I make it back to bed. Goodnight Master Snape."

"Sleep well, Harry."

Harry's head had just hit the pillow, or so it seemed, when Snape shook him awake. "Wash and dress quickly. It is nearly time for breakfast, Harry."

"Good morning," Harry croaked sleepily, though he didn't think it would be.

This time Snape had decided on smoked salmon on toast with pear wedges on the side, hoping to give Harry a bit more energy along with considerable brain fuel.

"Your schedule for today."

Harry took it and read down the list, Potions, History of Magic, History of Charms, History of Transfig-

"History?"

"With emphasis on the evolution of theory. I thought it might help."

Harry shrugged. "All right."

Apart from Potions where Harry tried Snape's patience while learning even more ways to prepare ingredients, Snape lectured to him non-stop for eleven hours straight, except for lunch, which they ate in total silence. Harry wondered how he was supposed to remember any of it. He interrupted Snape at one point to ask him just that. Snape looked entirely annoyed but suggested that Harry take notes.

Harry tried. He really did. He soon realized that Snape always talked a whole lot faster than Harry could ever hope to write. So he tried writing just enough to capture an idea, or the odd fact. For some reason, Harry's mind seemed to fight against him at every turn during this process. He found himself drifting away on the sound of Snape's voice, and realized to his horror, that his quill had stopped. Harry knew that although he had been staring straight at the man, he had no idea what Snape had spoken about for a good half hour at least.

Harry desperately tried to concentrate and refocus. He found the thread of Snape's current meaning only to start thinking about that alone which caused him to drift off on assorted unconnected tangents of his own. At the end of the day, Harry had a pile of notes he couldn't read at all. He wasn't even certain that half of what he had written was something that Snape actually said, or whether he had day-dreamed most of it. He felt awful about Snape's monumental effort and how it had been wasted on him.

That night when he couldn't sleep, he hesitated to knock on Snape's door. He didn't deserve a sleeping draught. He deserved Albus to murder him. He didn't want Albus killing Snape, though. Harry dragged himself out of bed, down the hall, and knocked on Snape's door.

"Come in Harry," Snape called to him from inside.

Harry opened the door slowly and closed it softly behind him. He couldn't look at Snape.

"Could I have a sleeping draught, Master Snape?" Harry asked the floor.

"No Harry."

"All right. Good night, then," Harry said miserably and turned to leave.

"Come. Sit by the fire."

Harry did look up then. Snape was sitting very straight, with a book closed in his lap. Harry knew from being in this room last night that the second chair by the hearth was a new addition. He slid into the deep leather chair that was almost as comfortable as his bed and felt just a bit better.

"I'm sorry."

"About?"

"Today. I tried to pay attention. I can't read my notes. I can't remember a thing you said."

"Of course you can. Tell me about the ceremonial murders or suicides of the ancient Wizarding Kings."

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, there was a term limit- usually twelve years of reign."

"Why twelve years?"

"That probably limited whatever damage the king might do to his kingdom if he were a particularly bad king. It also kept the kingdom from being ruled by the very old and infirm. Plus, a twelve year cycle mimics the cycle of the planet Jupiter. Wisdom and all that."

What sort of magic is that?"

"Sympathetic Magic?"

"Correct. Tell me about succession."

"If the king chose his successor, like if he wanted his son to rule after him, he would commit suicide with a ceremonial dagger after the feast that celebrated his reign. He'd cut off parts of himself, his nose first, then his ears, and so on, in front of everyone at the feast, until he passed out and bled to death. The more he dismembered, the better he was remembered. His chosen successor would catch as much of the blood as he could in the ceremonial goblet and drink it. If he had chosen no successor, anyone with a mind to rule would try to be the one to murder him, anytime after the feast, and then drink his blood straight from the death wound."

"What sort of magics were involved in succession?"

"Blood magic."

"And?"

Harry wracked his brain.

"Binding Magic?"

"Correct. The blood binds the new king to his people as well as to the blood of all kings before him. You see, you retained much and from it correctly inferred a fact that I did not tell you."

"Did I?"

"Did you think that I expected you to absorb every single word I said today?"

"Yes."

"That may have been ideal. However, I think you will find that I am a realist. When was the last time you learned something new, Harry?"

"Well, until recently, I learned most of what I know when I was little."

"So part of your challenge is to learn how to learn again."

"I guess so."

"We can review what I lecture about in conversation for the last hour of your lessons, if you think that might help."

"Would you do that?"

"Harry, I am trying to teach you. What ever you think might accomplish that goal, I am more than willing to try."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Is it as pointless as the last question you asked me?"

Harry just smiled for a while, then offered, "Maybe."

"Yes Harry, you may ask me a question."

"How is my learning history going to help us defeat Albus?"

"What is history, Harry?"

"Hermione said it was repeating patterns."

"It is also a progression- ideally, at any rate. What was true in the earliest days of the History of Magic?"

Harry really hoped Snape hadn't lectured on that topic today. He groped around for some sort of answer. "Um, well, no one would have known much about magic or its history."

"Correct."

"Really?"

"Knowledge builds upon knowledge, Harry. All we would have to do is start at the very beginning and bring you all the way through History of Magic to the present day. You would know everything known about magic."

"I don't think we have time for that."

"No one does. Still, a historic overview is useful. At least you will have some idea how much you do not know about magic."

"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea of that."

"Do you still wish to take a sleeping draught?"

"No thank you, Master Snape. Good night."

"Good night."

A/N- Harry's description of the succession of ancient Wizard Kings is based on actual old magical traditions of Southern India as detailed in Frazer's The Golden Bough. If you fancy to read the classic accounts of Samorins who reigned twelve years and died murdered or dismembering themselves as the main entertainment at feasts, check it out. Keep in mind that Severus knows the real story while Frazer got hold of some watered-down, incomprehensible, semi-factual version that has nothing to do with magic. You know how easily these Muggle researchers can be led astray! Still if you want to know more about the History of Magic (from a Muggle perspective) Frazer is your man.

There you have them, my dear readers- two updates in under a week! I feel so much less like a lazy Daisy, and so much more like a prosey Rosey! All comments, criticisms, and corrections dreamed about, longed for, and eternally appreciated. Thanks just for reading though!


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